


Folks Stealing a Kiss or Two

by apanoplyofsong



Series: let your heart be light [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apanoplyofsong/pseuds/apanoplyofsong
Summary: Honestly, it's kind of impressive that someone managed to smuggle an extendable pole of mistletoe into her apartment without Clarke noticing. She's not entirely convinced it hasn't been there for weeks, just waiting to end up in Monty’s hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is ridiculous fluff that's barely been proofread but did you not want mistletoe?  
> Title from "Mistletoe and Holly."

It's Monty who starts it, which isn't what Clarke would have expected.

If anything, she would have guessed Octavia or Jasper would be responsible but, apparently, with both of them out of town for this year's Christmas party, they've passed the baton. Monty is the new temporary head of their mission to push Bellamy and Clarke together.

Thanksgiving had been surprisingly quiet, devoid of comments on either of their relationship statuses. In part because Clarke had glared at Raven every time she opened her mouth for the first half of dinner, but still. She thought maybe they had finally given up on their months-long jabs and not-so-subtle orchestration of events and accepted that she and Bellamy were, in fact, adults capable of controlling their own lives.

But apparently not.

Still, it's kind of impressive that someone managed to smuggle an extendable pole of mistletoe into her apartment without Clarke noticing. She's not entirely convinced it hasn't been there for weeks, just waiting to end up in Monty’s hands at this exact moment.

This exact moment in which Clarke, leaning against the doorway as she eats the chocolate chips from a bowl of party mix, sees Monty stretch his arm from a full 6 feet away to rest a sprig of mistletoe above the door to the kitchen.

The same door that Bellamy is about to walk through.

She slides away at the same moment he traipses through the arch, a drink in both hands and humming something to himself. The room quiets and Bellamy glances up, smirks when he spots the bundle of berries dangling above his head.

“You know, Monty, if you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.” He smacks a loud kiss to Monty’s cheek and turns towards Clarke, leaving Monty gaping and Miller muffling laughter beside him.

“I thought they had given it up by now,” Clarke murmurs as he hands her a cup of wassail, leaning in close so he’s the only one to hear her.

“You know my sister. She never gives up this easily.”

“Your sister’s not even _here_.”

Bellamy shrugs, grins a little as he slouches against the sofa next to her. “That’s never stopped her before.”

It becomes a theme throughout the night.

Bellamy executes an impressive spin manoeuvre around the coffee table when the mistletoe finds itself hanging over where Clarke’s seated. Clarke places Raven in her path so that she can grab her friend’s face and plant a kiss against her lips before grabbing an extra slice of cake. She almost feels bad about how clearly they’re sabotaging everyone’s efforts, but then Bellamy bumps Miller under the sprig, who takes the opportunity to grab Monty by the shoulders and kiss him almost shyly. By the way Monty blushes for a full 10 minutes, they’re probably even.

Still, somewhere around the sixth attempt and the third hour of everyone passing the contraption around her apartment, their efforts fail. Clarke runs straight into Bellamy at the end of the hallway. Her hands find his shoulders in an effort to catch herself, his wrap the curve of her waist to hold her steady, a crooked smile gracing his face. Clarke can hear somebody scrambling for the pole before the mistletoe even makes it above their heads.

Taking a deep breath, she braces herself in the warmth of his eyes.

“I hope you’re ready, Blake.”

The kiss is dry and perfunctory, a simple press of lips on lips, but it lasts just long enough for a shot of heat to spread through her before she pulls away. Clarke spins to face to room, waiting with grins on their faces.

“Are you happy now?” Her cheeks are definitely pink and there’s a tingling in her fingers but she ignores it, ignores the way she can feel Bellamy shifting against her back and can imagine his ears turning red.

“Nah, that was pretty tame,” Raven quips. Clarke raises a brow, doing her best to look unimpressed.

Monty fidgets for a second, then bursts. “It was Jasper’s idea! And, well, we went along with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, can we get on with the night now? Who got me for Secret Santa?”

Clarke turns to Bellamy at his interjection, grateful and a bit sheepish, and lets her head fall against his shoulder for a moment before following into the living room.

The rest of the evening is quieter, for which she’s grateful. It’s easier to get lost in the company, the laughter, the sugar in her system without the expectations and ploys hanging over her head. There’s a little awkwardness, herself and Bellamy always keeping people between then when they sit and linger and talk. She can still feel the touch of his mouth, the weight of his hands, but she wills herself not to think about it and the night ends the same way it always does.

“You coming?” Miller’s lingering by the front door, scarf wrapped tight around his neck and beanie pulled over his ears. Bellamy glances up from where he’s wrapping a platter of mini quiches and shakes his head.

“I’m going to help clean up. Clarke can give me a ride.”

Miller’s eyebrows twitch up for a second as he glances at their host but, well, Monty’s waiting, and Bellamy usually stays. He lets himself out and the apartment quiets.

It’s familiar, simple, working with Bellamy to get the worst of the party’s evidence cleared. They talk just enough to avoid running into each other, the routine practiced from hosting dozens of evenings at their respective apartments. His shoulder brushing against hers as they move through the kitchen makes her nerves thrum but by the time Clarke climbs into bed that night she feels content, cozy with the lingering buzz in her system. A pleasant kind of tiredness sits in her limbs.

Large warm palms skim across her stomach as she settles against the mattress and she slides back, nestles her body into the familiar curve of Bellamy’s body heat.

“Do you think we should tell them?” she asks, smothering a yawn that slips out against his arm.

He smooths a hand over her hair, buries his nose behind her ear. “I think they can wait until New Year’s.”

She grins, lets her mind drift in the comfort of the night and the man behind her.

“Yeah. Serves them right.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas fics are baaaack ([tumblr](apanoplyoffic.tumblr.com), etc.)


End file.
